


Strange as Angels

by maggiemae815



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, M/M, Series Spoilers, Spoilers, alternate season 6
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-24 19:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggiemae815/pseuds/maggiemae815
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fic gone rogue.</p><p>prompt-</p><p>"Angel!Dean, Angel!Cas, top!Cas, heat (Alpha/Omega ???) Angel!Sam, alive!Gabe, good!Lucifer, alive!Balthazar, alive!Bobby, good!Crowley, BAMF!everyone</p><p>Dean was cool with new experiences. But waking up with wings and a little brother (also with wings) eating face with Gabriel (whose wings were abnormally obvious today) and Castiel staring at him as if he were the greatest burger he'd ever fucking seen, well he hadn't quite anticipated that one. Slow move from eye-sex to boyfriend/I-Love-You. Heat after the full boyfriend/I-Love-You realisation. Sam and Gabe established, not as fussed about who tops, you decide. Sassy people all round plz."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daylight Licked Me Into Shape

**Author's Note:**

> The inspiration from this prompt was just overwhelming. Seriously Frankie, you're amazing and I flippin' flangin' flappin' love you.
> 
> HOLY CRAP I GOT A BETA GUYS SO I WON'T LOOK LIKE AN ILLITERATE BUFFOON.  
> Hanna (cas-on-a-flat-bread on tumblr) you are a queen and I will find you subjects to be worshiped by.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own these boys, and make no profit off of this work of fiction, save for the pleasure of letting my babiES BE HAPPY FOR ONCE OKAY.
> 
> Ahem.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Dean was exhausted, grunting in response to Sammy’s, “G’night” and dropping onto his twin mattress, groaning as he settled into the groove of the worn out springs.

If Dean had allowed himself even a moment of introspection, he would have been thinking about what he’d told Parmida, the white witch that had helped on their hunt; his brain, on the other hand, could focus on nothing more than shutting down for a bit.

The way it all began was, like most things (at least according to Dean) all Sam’s fault.

Sam had convinced Dean that Parmida would be able to assist on the case they’d been stuck on for the past week. The spirit they were up against was a long dead witch herself, definitely not a nice one, and had been powerful enough to manifest some juice from beyond the grave. Or urn, as it was, because wasn’t that always their luck.

Parmida had promised to not only help track down the object the bitch of a sorceress was clinging to, but would shroud them in her strongest protection spells.

Turns out she wasn’t lying even a little. Dean barely had time to watch in morbid fascination as an orange shot of magic rolled off of his brother’s shoulder like water off of a feather when Parmida was shouting about the location of the object even as she went after it, Dean hot on her trail.

Sam, in his at least semi-impervious bubble, held the spirit back as best as he could, and Dean was tearing out the wall in the basement of the museum she had been killing from, finding a ripped brown and yellow scarf with smatterings of beads adorning it in a dust and dirt covered box.

Pouring the salt and lighter fluid, he lit it up just as Parmida had begun to scream. She was panting breathlessly when Dean turned away from the fire, the last of the evil witch’s spirit turning to smoke right beside Parmida. Sam chose that moment to run through the door covered in dirt.

“You alright?” Dean asked, scanning her for injuries and finding none before turning to his brother. “And where the hell were you?”

“She almost collapsed a section of hallway around me. Sorry if I took my time,” Sam snapped, bitchface shining clear through the brown and black smudged across his face. “Let’s go.” Brow furrowed and mouth pinched, Sam marched out of the door towards the exit while Dean chuckled at the puffs of dust coming off of him.

“You saved my life.” Parmida’s soft, slightly accented voice startled Dean a bit, still bone deep tired from this shitfest of a case.

“What do you mean?” Dean remembered she had been screaming. “Thought you were protected from her?”

Parmida smiled ruefully, blonde ringlets of hair that had fallen from her loose bun framing her face. Dean would always be wary of witches, white or not, but he had to admit there was something about this woman that made him feel warm. Like he was drinking some beers around a fire at Bobby’s, surrounded by the people he loved. Which was… weird.

“The link of magic that connects all of us who practice it, good or not, runs deeper than most spells can protect. She was trying to tap into my light, tamper with it. It could have done any number of horrible things.”

“Your light?" Dean questioned dubiously.

“Yes. I am an, as you call it, ‘white’ witch. There is an energy vibrating throughout the entirety of existence, far beyond what even our finite minds can fathom, and as a diviner of light I tap into that energy and pull from it, so as to achieve balance and harmony through the world.”

Dean could almost smell the incense burning, imagined this bright, exotic young woman smoking weed topless during some kind of folk music festival, burning with passion for the pursuits of peace and love.

Annoyingly, it made him even more inclined to trust her.

“So I guess some witches really aren’t bad,” he acquiesced, hoping it was a sufficient enough an apology for the attitude he knew had eked from him throughout the hunt.

“Good and bad are relative terms; we all possess potential for both. That is why her tapping into my light would have been disastrous; I am quite strong. So you indeed saved my life from a fate far worse than dying. Chances are we won’t meet again, so I would like to do something to repay you.”

“I don’t like favors,” Dean said quickly, because how many times had he learned this lesson.

“It is no favor. I might have lost my mind, destroyed this entire building, this whole city, if she had succeeded. It may seem simple enough; you knew where the object was, you were practically burning it already, but my worst fear is…”

“Going dark side?” Yeah, that he could relate to. Dean had been face to face with himself as a demon, had watched his own hands strip flesh and muscle and bone from countless souls, saw who he could have become if Sammy hadn’t overpowered Lucifer. He knew that fear intimately.

“Exactly. So tell me Dean, in your moments of intense selfishness what is it you crave most?” Her cinnamon eyes were wide, peering at him in a way that reminded him of Castiel, as if she could see his soul and it didn’t repulse her. The warmth diffused through his system again.

“Part of me wants to say peace; for all the monsters to just not exist, for the things in the dark to stay there and for hell and all of its demons to fuck off and burn forever. For us to not have to keep fighting.”

“And yet…”

“DEAN!”

Sam was back in the doorway looking even bitchier than before, his arms crossed and his lips in a pout (that Sam would never admit to; he was a grown up and he didn’t pout).

“Whatdya want?” Dean asked, annoyed in a weird way because he wanted to hear his own answer to that whirlpool of a question.

“The hell, man. I’ve been waiting out there, I’m covered in this crap, I want to take a shower, and I’m _starving_ , not to mention –“

“JESUS I’m coming. Fine. Just. Go to the car.”

“Dean.”

“Go, Sammy, I’ll be right behind you.”

Dean’s hands were clenched tightly into fists as Sam stormed away, but he turned resolutely back to Parmida who had remained patiently waiting.

“And yet,” she repeated, laying a hand over Dean’s heart, “it’s much simpler than all of that.”

“Love.” It came out firm and sure even as Dean felt his insides clawing to grab the sentiment back. Vulnerability was a tight fit on Dean, squeezing his throat like a vice. _Where had that even come from?_

He scoffed at himself, drawing away from the ethereal woman before him.

“But you know what they say. ‘Can’t buy me love’, right? In my experience love spells tend to zombify its victim and I wouldn’t want that and it’s not like I have a choice with my lifestyle, anyway. Even if there weren’t any more monsters or demons I’m not cut out for that shit. So forget it.”

Dean turned to leave the room, noting that Parmida looked unfazed as she followed behind him, and she barely said a word as they drove her to the train station.

Guess he wasn’t getting world peace as his consolation prize.

Parmida bade Sam a warm goodbye as she got out of the car, the behemoth of a man still glowering in the passenger’s seat, wrapped in a blanket to protect the leather from the mess covering him. He gave her a quick nod and tight smile.

Dean turned to thank her again only to find her leaning through the window. Her lips landed softly on his forehead, and again that damn warmth spread from where her hand rested against his cheek throughout the rest of him. It was so damn powerful that he grabbed Sam’s hand, barely registering the soft gasp his brother let out. Neither were sure how long they stayed like that, because it was over in a blink yet seemed suspended in the whole of time, and then she was walking away and the boys were left blinking slowly.

As if nothing had happened, they’d headed to the hotel room where Dean cleaned his weapons until Sam was done showering, hopping in for a quick wash. And then he was sleeping, not knowing enough to care that he’d changed his fate simply through the purity of his own soul.

And also because of Sam; it was all his fault.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“…and do you _smell that_ , Cassie. Gabriel positively reeks; it’ll only get worse when the giraffe comes to. I’m not even sure why you invited me here. In fact; I’m a bit of offended.”

“What the hell?” Dean tried to move his face out of the pillow but it felt like some kind of weight was pressing his back down, and he let out a warning huff. “Okay. I’m gonna ask nicely. Who is pressin’ on my back?” He kept his voice calm but fitted his hand around his gun, the feeling of being trapped putting him instantly in fight mode.

“No one. Get up and look for yourself, stupid. And get your brother to wake up. I **need** your brother to wake up,” Gabriel’s voice came from by Sammy’s bed as he continued to mumble something about how Sammy could probably sleep through an orgy.

When Dean was finally able to sit up he realized the strange weight shifted with him. Some _thing_ was on him.

“ _What’s_ on my back?” he amended, reaching with his empty hand because whatever it was, it felt connected to him and –

“The fuck is going on? Cas? What the –“

Because now that he was taking in every detail he realized that everyone in the room had wings.

And by everyone that included Sam and Dean himself, as far as the mirror was telling him. Slowly he turned his head, eyes bulging as they took in the **wing** he was holding.

His hand met a sandy plush undercoat interspersed with coarser feathers in hues of rusty amber and shining gold, white and tan, dark brown, and random additions of ocean blue; they reminded him of the shorelines along his favorite fishing lake.

He tugged at them, eyes wide, barely breathing, and felt a sensation akin to an electric shock travel through the wings and zip down to his spine, through wing joints, fucking _wing joints_ , only to land somewhere in his lower belly. The oil that covered his wings, a little thicker than the grease that would build up in his hair when he hadn’t showered, seemed to grow a bit slicker, and Dean reached to lightly yank another chunk when a hand grasped his forearm.

“ **Don’t**.” Castiel’s voice reverberated throughout his bones, and Dean immediately dropped his hand, catching a whimper roughly in his throat. _What the hell_.

Dean turned his head towards his brother.

“Sam!”

No response, but Dean could hear him snoring.

Somehow the guy had slept through the angel conference and whatever else Gabriel had tried. Even Dean hadn’t been as vigilant as usual. Something completely fucked up was going on. It was all made even worse by the supposed-to-be-dead Gabriel looming over his brother with a look on his face that was making Dean uncomfortable and oddly envious. Not of Sam, but of the hunger in Gabriel’s eyes.

“ **Sam**!” Dean roared, heart starting to beat against his ribcage.

“Wuzgoinon?” Sam jolted up, face landing only inches away from Gabriel’s. And then Sam took a deep, slow breath through his nose. His eyes slipped closed and his mouth went slack.

When he opened his eyes his pupils didn’t retract in the light and Dean swore he could feel the air in the room get thinner.

The archangel seemed to take the entire thing as permission to reach right out and grasp both of Sam’s dark auburn, blood red and gold laced wings before Sam let out a gasp and, like it happened all of the time, pressed his lips to Gabriel’s in a sloppy, loud, deep sucking kiss.

“What the fuck is happening,” Dean choked out, forearm still grasped tightly in Cas’ hand as the lip locked pair disappeared.

It was a minute before the hunter could get his mouth working, and then he exploded.”Where the **hell** did they go? Cas, tell me what the fuck is going on? And who the fuck is that guy?” Dean gesticulated widely to the angel next to Castiel before bringing a hand up to his hair and gripping just a bit too tight. He needed to ground himself.

Dean didn’t know why the third question came out like it did; defensive and just a touch sharp. Hell, he didn’t know why it came out at all; just another angel lackey Cas had brought along to this new clusterfuck.

But some blond smarmy guy with silver, sunset purple, sky and midnight blue wings, the one with the British voice that had awoken him (hadn’t he mentioned a smell, because now that Dean thinks about it he smelled _something_ ), that called Castiel ‘Cassie’, was looking expectantly between the two of them like they were an entertaining play.

In short, Dean was put off by his presence for reasons he could continue naming, and a few he couldn’t.

“I believe they are down the hall, third door on the left. It appears you and Sam have somehow been turned into a new genus of angel, or a rather old one; it may even be something between, we aren’t quite sure yet. That is Balthazar, an angel I have had the honor of fighting alongside for many millennia, and a very dear friend.”

Cas answered every question without hesitation, eyes pinning Dean to the spot. The hunger he’d seen Gabriel aiming at his brother was glaringly bright in the burning blue depths of the angel still holding on to him. Dean noticed that Cas’ feathers, blue black, jade and shimmering, were quivering slightly. Castiel followed Dean’s eyes and immediately released his hold on Dean’s arm, stepping back a foot or so towards Balthazar. For some reason, that did nothing to improve Dean's mood.

“The dearest,” Balthazar added in. Dean gave him a hard glare, but turned back to Castiel and gave him a nod to continue.

“I contacted him as soon as I felt the change. I sensed nothing malicious; you were actually sleeping quite peacefully. Then you and Sam simultaneously rolled onto your stomachs and manifested wings. We didn’t want to awake or alarm either of you, as you both seem altogether unharmed.”

“Glowing, even,” Balthazar scoffed. “I’m off to do that research, since you asked so nicely. Ta.”

Dean, glad to hear the angel’s departure (how had Cas asked nicely, Dean wondered, vaguely bitter) sat quietly digesting as he stared at his _new wings_. The angels might not sense anything evil about this but they weren’t always right; far from it, usually. Still, something that almost felt like reverence was rising in his throat as he watched the light make his gold feathers shine, reflecting in an almost blinding glint at just the right angle. He wondered what they would look like spread out across the sky.

They were solid under his fingers and ranged from a down that nearly matched the hair on his head to sharp, specifically positioned quills that went from brown like Sam’s to an almost white, all the while gold danced in between.

“So I’m an angel,” Dean said, breaking the silence and testing out the word. “Dean Winchester, angel of the freaking Lord.”

Saying it loud made him kind of giddy. He felt like he was back in his experimental phase and he’d gotten the red cup at the party.

“Apparently, so I would be wary of further blasphemy, absent Father or not. I’m more than positive He had something to do with this, though not directly. Balthazar is off to speak with Parmida. This, of course, wasn’t her doing. At least intentionally. No one has the power to do something of this magnitude unless it is written.”

Always with that matter-of-fact destiny shit.

“It had to be her. God doesn’t just get bored and decide to turn two people, especially when one of ‘em is me, into angels. She offered uh, some kind of spell but I don’t remember her doing it. And why turn Sammy, too? What’s her end game? I want to talk to her myself.” Dean stood and began pacing, sick of this ridiculous onslaught of emotion. He was angry, confused (which only served to make him angrier), uncomfortable (this weight on his back was doing strange things to his balance), and painfully curious. Not to mention worried, because what if she told this Balthazar guy about his… request.

Castiel was watching him carefully, obviously looking for the right words. But Dean wasn’t quite done yet.

“And another thing; what’s up with Gabriel being alive? And down the hall. _With my brother_??”

Castiel averted his gaze from Dean; Balthazar was right, the newly winged hunter was glowing and it was only increased in the storm of his indignation. He had to focus on helping Dean handle this entire situation and would have to ignore his instincts for, well, possibly the rest of time. That dark, doubtful part of him was positive that he would not get what he yearned for, had always seemed to yearn for when it came to the righteous man.

“I can only assume he came up with a mirage powerful enough to convince Lucifer, and you two, of his death. As for he and Sam, they –“

Castiel cleared his throat as he reached towards his already loose tie and tugged on it further, his body seeming to react to nerves in ways he’d only experienced when cut off from the host. With a dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth, he forced himself to continue. “They seem to be mating.”

Dean’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped, but not a sound came out for almost half a minute.

“Mating? Like, call-of-the-wild Discovery Channel _mating_? My brother isn’t an animal!”

“No, he isn’t. As I said, you are both a form of angel now. It’s either something new that we’ll have to put a name to, some angel-human hybrid that God left room for –“

Dean opened his mouth to interrupt but Castiel held up a hand, causing Dean’s mouth to snap shut. That was new.

Castiel raised a brow, eyes taking on that deep pooling promise of something just out of Dean’s reach, before the older angel shook himself and continued.

“The witch wouldn’t have been able to cause this sort of metamorphosis. That has led us to believe that what she did was somehow pre-ordained. If so, that leaves the possibility of Celephilim open.”

“Celephilim?” Dean’s head was spinning because while he may not remember Parmida actually casting a spell, he did remember the answer he’d given when asked for his most selfish desire. How could that have led to this? None of it made sense.

Castiel’s voice was breaking through the buzzing thoughts swarming Dean’s mind, and not for the first time he found the angel’s rumbling tone soothing, even if he was monotonously spouting facts.

“The Celephilim are a naught spoken of sect of angels that existed before the Celestials and Cherubs. Almost like the Leviathans, the Celephilim were a test run. They were very…”

“Powerful?” Dean asked, perking up as he realized that hey, this might have other perks besides wings.

“Human.”

“Human?”

Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean’s repetition, having noted it was something he and Sam did back and forth sometimes and considered a sign of affection. Usually the idea gave him a feeling of comfort, that he and his charge had gotten to the point of easily shared camaraderie. Friendship. But right now was not the time, not the time at all, for his skin to tingle in delight at the soft look of confusion Dean was giving him. He would need to figure out a way to stop his mind wandering, and quickly.

“They felt love. Most importantly, they were Alphas, Omegas, and Betas, and their love was somewhat “animalistic” in its mating rituals. It was also pure, relying on the base instinct that both mates would have to ensure happiness in the other. They even had forms closely resembling what would eventually be the homo erectus. But then something went wrong, and God cast them from existence and spoke of them no more.”

Dean let out a low whistle, sitting down slowly on the bed and testing his wings out. Castiel seemed to be finished and watched Dean stretch and fold his new appendages. Every time Dean would rustle his feathers Cas’ would twitch in the smallest of ways, but Dean saw it.

“Think I could see your true form now? Hear your voice?”

Cas’ gaze landed firmly on Dean before his mouth thinned and he shook his head.

“That’s been enough for one day. You should get some rest. Don’t try to do anything more than shifting your wings. We’ll give it one more day and then tomorrow we’ll test your abilities.”

Dean heard Castiel’s words for what they were; something more than suggestions, but less than orders. It didn’t escape the hunter that he hadn’t answered either question, but he let it go, head still spinning. He knew sleeping was probably for the best; hell, it would give him some time to ignore this new development in what could only be his and Sam’s lives. And truth be told his body was oddly aching and he knew he would need to rest again.

“I just woke up,” he reminded Cas; because no way was he just gonna give in. He was still Dean freaking Winchester.

“You have also just shifted into a completely new form on a molecular level. You need rest.”

“What about Sam?” He still wasn’t totally okay with the idea that his baby brother was being ravaged by an archangel regardless of their new DNA coding or whateverthehell.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Cas’ tone sounded strange. Sad. “They are mates. Gabriel will do anything in his power to ensure Sam’s happiness and well being. Your brother is most assuredly being taken care of. He is probably resting now. You may have only physically manifested wings, but you are no longer human Dean. At least not fully.”

Dean felt his stomach twist at that. He was no monster, was as far from a demon as you could probably be, and yet he couldn’t help but think his dad would consider him unnatural. Not to be trusted. **Not human**.

“Dean, please stop worrying. We will figure everything out. Even a reversal; I’ll put the spell together myself, if need be. I promise.”

Cas looked almost guilty, and it gnawed at Dean’s already sore stomach. He laid back down, not thinking twice before he was sprawled on his back, and he realized a minute too late that his wings –

“They’re going through the mattress,” Dean whispered, mostly to himself, but Castiel heard.

“They aren’t actually on this plane of existence. You always have them, but other people won’t see them, just as you couldn’t see any of ours. They’ll pass right through them, unless of course you call them forth. That’s not recommend, because they are delicate when they’re exposed here. As I said, we will test your powers and limits over the coming days.”

Castiel’s voice had softened as Dean’s eyes drifted shut, and he gave himself a moment to look his fill.

“What would I do without you, Cas?” Dean slurred tiredly, and without conscious thought was reaching for the angel, his fellow angel, before the healing need for rest pulled him under and Cas was gone.


	2. I Must Have Been Asleep for Days

Dean woke up the next morning to the door opening, instantly alert on as the memories of yesterday slammed into the fore of his mind. Sammy walked in slowly, his balance looking as precarious as Dean’s had felt. He kind of pitied his huge brother, as the wings seemed to be quite proportional and looked damned heavy.

“This is gonna take some getting used to,” Sam said, looking behind him to send a glower towards a smirking Gabriel.

Dean felt his eyes narrow into slits as he tried to observe any telltale signs of their ‘mating’.

“Dean-o, how are ya buddy? Sorry about the abrupt departure yesterday, but it seems your brother is an Alpha and hey, I’m not well known for my self control.”

“Can you just rewind and explain it without intimate details. And, earth to Sam; why the hell do you seem so comfortable with all this?”

Except Dean noticed he wasn’t as nonchalant as he had been when he entered the room. Sam’s eyes were locked onto Gabriel’s lips and he was squirming, feathers puffing up and secreting a sickly sweet scent that hit a nerve on Dean, instinct he didn’t know existed telling him, _ew_ , his brother was horny.

“Sam, turn it down a notch. Dean’s gonna lose his shit and I really don’t feel like dealing with that. Keep your head in the game; breakfast, and then back to the room.”

“You’re bossy for a Beta,” Sam responded darkly, licking his lips.

“Can you guys cut that shit out and explain this part of the whole situation,” Dean ground out, glaring at the pair as he felt his wings spread out. He was posturing. Fuck. This was all too bizarre.

“Okay, so it goes like this; Sammy wasn’t the focus of the witch’s spell, but somehow it bled into him. It wasn’t as clean a transition as yours, and he seems to have formed right into his heat.”

“Heat.” Dean’s voice was deadpan, and the twisting in his gut returned with a vengeance.

“Yeah, and lucky I came here because you do not want to have dealt with that unmated energy. Anyway, it triggered my latent Beta urges and synced us right up.”

Dean made a gagging noise. Gabriel smirked.

“Couple that lovely stroke of fate with a hand job shared long ago and two personalities that are going to clash and spark, and we found ourselves in a mutual mating clench.”

“Yeah, so I saw. And wait, what?” Dean spluttered a bit. “What hand job? No. No, wait. I don’t want to know.”

Dean looked at Sam with a new perspective, kind of proud that his prissy little brother was so open minded, until he noticed the smoldering look he was sending Gabriel. His damn brother had barely said a word since he came into his room; shit, he seemed incapable of looking away from the archangel. No way he was getting breakfast with them; didn’t even have an appetite. And really, he should be starving; he hadn’t eaten in almost 24 hours. What if he was never hungry again? What if he couldn't enjoy food? What if he couldn’t _taste_ **pie**.

Oh fuck. Okay. One thing at a time.

“Are all angels like this? The whole Alpha, Beta, Omega thing. You said it was latent?” Dean wanted to know everything there was about what he might be. What he could become.

“It’s kind of like a recessive gene. Any being that was ever created for Heaven is capable of existing. Since it once was, it still may be. It’s in our blood and, apparently, in yours; a recessive angel gene with some awesome hormonal influence.”

Dean made another gagging sound.

“Yeah, Gabe says God must have helped, or at least allowed it as a possibility in our bloodline, like the whole vessel thing,” Sam supplied. He’d finally seemed to focus on something besides sex and decide to add to the conversation as he packed up his bags. “Uh, I’m gonna be sleeping in the room down the hall.”

“So really; you and _Gabe_?" Sam blushed but nodded, leaning instinctively towards his mate. Dean gave him a wave. "Yeah, Cas told me; three doors down. Thanks for keeping a good distance. He also told me about the Big Guy.”

Dean sprawled out with a huff, his wings wrapping around himself as he felt distinctly lonely. Where had Cas gone? Off with Balthazar? Dean’s wings pulled tighter as he felt a whine threaten to rise from somewhere deep in his chest.

As if summoned by Dean’s longing (longing; where’d that even come from?) alone, flapping feathers filled his ears before he felt the bed beside him dip.

“Good, you’re here. You can look after that one. We’ll see you folks in, say, three or four days? Sound good? Alright. Bye.” With a wave of fingers the Beta was pulling his Alpha towards the door.

Gabriel ignored Dean’s middle finger as he tugged Sam out of the room, but not before Sam could send Cas a ‘look after my brother’ grimace, which morphed into a lusty grin when he turned towards his mate and shut the door.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Think I’ll still be able to hunt?” Dean sounded kind of terrified. It was all so much, and while Sam was distracted by his heat and his mate (mate, his _mate_ , the word kept repeating in Dean’s head) the older Winchester had no such catharsis.

“Of course. I see no reason why anything should have to change. We’ve heard no word from Heaven, but I doubt anyone from above will touch you. This has been ordained.” Castiel sounded so sure, resolute, as if he would make what he was saying the truth by sheer will. Dean almost believed he would.

“You keep saying that. According to Gabriel, God could have like, I dunno, planted something in our bloodline that made us not only ideal vessels for freaking archangels, but also allowed room for,” Dean swept his hands around the room before puffing out his wings, “this.”

“The Winchester name has long been synonymous with duty for the greater good. This could be your reward.”

Dean laughed in a self deprecating way that rankled under Castiel’s skin.

“You are deserving of every gift Heaven and earth can bestow. Your soul is one of the purist I have ever seen, and –“

“Enough.” Dean was back to curling in on himself, and Castiel clenched his fists, forcing himself to calm down. “I want some food. This is all too damn much and I just wanna go out and stuff myself full of some greasy diner grub. I need something normal.” As he said the words his stomach growled, and he suddenly felt hollow but so damn glad because that was good. That was human.

Castiel nodded as Dean pulled on a shirt (he had slept in his jeans, pulling on a semi-clean pair after his shower, not even caring enough to put on boxers) and headed towards the door. Just as he was stepping out he turned towards Cas, still sitting on the bed, expectantly.

“Well?”

Castiel took it as the invitation it was and followed Dean, as he always would.

  
 

* * *

 

Apparently Dean still retained his earthly hunger and reliance on sustenance (as well as each and every glorious taste bud), because his mood improved with every bite of pancakes and bacon, stirring the strips into his grits and devouring every last bite.

“Damn, I didn’t even realize how hungry I was.”

“So it seems,” Castiel said, with just a touch of humor that Dean smiled, his first truly relaxed smile since he first spotted the overabundance of feathers in the motel room.

“It’s so weird; I can just see your wings now. Always wondered what they looked like.”

Dean stared at the dark, shimmering feathers that looked like smooth, silky ink. Dean wanted to touch them, to feel them spread across him, spilling over his skin, slipping between his fingers, between his –

“Dean?” There was color high on Cas’ cheeks, and their eyes locked in a way that was familiar and yet charged with something markedly different.

“Cas, I,” but Dean wasn’t sure what he was, wasn’t sure of anything at the moment. He could not, would not, let his mind wander into those shadowed corners and crevices of desire. He had to be practical, since Sam was off having his lost weekend. “I want to know what I can do now. Can I smite? Am I as immortal as you all? How are we even supposed to figure that out? Then there’s flying or teleporting or whatever thing you dicks love to do,” the words flew out as Dean tried to diffuse that moment of _what if_ within himself and focus. He took a quick look around. “We should get out of here.”

“I did come here to help you test your abilities, as promised, but I also have news. Balthazar spoke to Parmida,” Dean flinched, knew what was coming, “and it would seem she pulled on the Grace of the universe to grant you a “full life”. She had no idea how it would happen, what way the spell was going to affect you, but she seemed confident that it was completely pure. She used the word pure a lot, according to Balthazar. He also said she claimed to have dreamt of flying that night.”

“The universe has Grace? Like, light” Castiel nodded. “Hold on, hold on. Purity? Someone described something to do with me and used the word purity? I don’t buy it; this whole situation stinks.”

“Damnit Dean, how often must I tell you that the purity of your soul is unmatched by any other I’ve seen.  I know you still hold on to your time in Hell, but you were weak; you were human. It doesn’t change the fact that whatever your request was, she said it was the request of your soul; that it came from the depth of you. You and the witch are the only ones who know what it was, but keep that in mind.”

So she hadn’t told Balthazar. He really was being forced to reevaluate his stance on white witches.

“Cas,” it was on the tip of his tongue, ' _I asked for love and it led me here. Why?_ ' But he couldn’t bring himself to say it; story of his life. Another part of him wanted to suggest that he go speak to Parmida himself, but he really didn’t want to see her again. He let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his face, realized they were still at the diner. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Getting into the Impala, Dean inclined his head towards Cas, noting once again how strange it was seeing both sets of their wings going through the seats of his baby. Was this seriously his reality now?

“I saw an empty field not far from here. Seems an ideal location to practice away from prying eyes.”

“Yeah, okay.” Full stomach and a purring engine overriding his nerves, Dean put on the radio and pulled out.

With the music blasting, Castiel had to shout out the directions that led to an empty cornfield.

“What would you like to figure out first?”

“Well uh, I mean, I guess we won’t know what our lifespan is until enough time has passed to notice, ya know, wrinkles and grays. But I figure we can test my healing abilities.” Dean’s obvious hesitancy made Castiel uneasy.

“In what way?”

“Uh, I guess you could like, stab me? And if I can’t heal or something, you can fix me right up.”

“Why not just slice your arm?” Castiel was wholly troubled by this. There was no way he could cause his charge (was that still the right word for what Dean meant to him?) any sort of pain or suffering. Never again.

“’Cause I’ve seen you sport a cut for a while, like your Grace or whatever doesn’t power up for superficial shit, and I wanna know as soon as possible.”

Still Castiel hesitated.

“Go ahead, Cas.” Dean hoped this would work, and when he saw the logic of it all settle heavily on Castiel’s features he started doing some deep breathing, swinging his fisted hands back and forth to get himself worked up.

“If you’re sure,” Castiel agreed, clearly reluctant, eyes wide and searching as he watched Dean pull out his dagger.

“I am; I trust you.”

That seemed to strengthen Castiel’s resolve (and it came out so easily, which, really, should have astounded Dean, but he would examine later) and the hunter realized he was really about to get airholed through the gut.

“What’s it feel like, being stabbed when you’re all angeled up?” The question took Cas by surprise, his eyes fixed on the blade Dean had sunk into his chest all those years ago. So much had changed…

“It’s not quite painless, but at the very same time the discomfort is on the edge of your awareness; as if you’re remembering lacing white heat from a long time ago.”

Dean was still trying to get himself worked up enough, nodding his head like he understood, and reminding Cas to jab the thing somewhere in semi-neutral territory; no organ damage, even if he was gonna get healed. Slowly lifting his shirt, Dean squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

He sucked in a breath before Castiel struck out, lodging the knife right next to his stomach. Dean knew that, knew every piece of tissue that was being torn apart, just as he knew the hiss he let out was an automatic response, not a reaction to pain. Because the only pain Dean knew was the abstract idea that nerves were being damaged. Castiel’s hand was still holding tight to the knife and Dean fitted his own over it, looking Cas right in the eye as he slowly withdrew the blade.

Dean felt a smile stretch tight across his lips, losing a bit of its feral edge when his eyes met the other angel’s and saw Cas’ head tilted in curiosity.

“No discomfort?”

“Holy shit,” was all Dean could say. Probably about five or six times, even as he stared at the line in his skin. He wasn’t even bleeding. “Holy shit.”

“It seems your extra rest served you well. As you’ve noticed, angels can bleed. But it’s only under the circumstances where you allow yourself to, or you’re weakened. That’s why a simple slice would have sufficed, but you are a mule.” His tone was almost teasing and he wasn’t wrong, so Dean simply shrugged. “Now, concentrate and try to heal.”

Dean closed his eyes, letting Cas’ voice wash over him as he encouraged Dean to simply ‘command your body to heal’.

As soon as Dean focused on that thought, that simple, obvious thought, he felt a cord of energy travel from the middle of his forehead down to his abdomen and a brief press of warmth against the injury. When he opened his eyes he half expected Cas’ hand to be on him, but he looked down and realized, taking in the unmarred skin, that he had done that himself.

“Holy shit. I mean, really. This is. Wow. I’m an _angel_ , Cas.”

Dean was rubbing his hand back and forth across the spot repeatedly and finally lifted his eyes to his **fellow angel** , because this was **real** , when he noticed that Cas was still focused on the smooth skin of his belly. His hand was still rubbing, but it was more in a small circular pattern and had moved to the spot just above his navel.

“You truly are, Dean,” Cas’ voice held a soft reverence that made something in Dean’s chest tighten, and he told himself that soon, soon he would think about all of that.

Right now, though, he was still _focusing_. Because he had this feeling, a very foreign, hopeful feeling much the opposite of the usual foreboding he felt, well, always. It was right in the back of his mind telling him that something else might take priority over how-to-angel lessons soon.

With one glance of awe at his handiwork, Dean lowered his shirt and spread out his wings, Castiel’s eyes to dart from Dean’s stomach and chest. The look in his eyes caused a thrumming to begin in Dean’s veins. When the blue orbs took in Dean’s wingspan, seeming to inventory the placement of every quill, every separate shade, Dean could almost _feel_ his eyes on him.

“How ‘bout flying?” Dean forced out.

Castiel took one last sweeping look before fixing Dean with his comforting stare (he wasn’t sure when the stare had gone from creepy to comforting, but it had happened fairly soon after his trip to the future) before spreading his own wings.

“It should come as naturally as the healing did. You just spread your wings, focus on a location, and –“ Cas brought his wings down once and disappeared, popping up right behind Dean. “Start small; try to fly to the other side of the field,” he suggested.

Dean picked a spot, thought about being there, brought his wings down as easily as moving a finger, and then he felt that usual sensation of moving through the atmosphere, only it was different; **he** was in control. In a blink he was on the other side of the field right where he meant to land and Cas was giving him one of his rare, wide smiles. He looked proud, and it caused a feeling like warm water to wash over the new angel from head to toe.

That smile that was right in his face the next second.

“Excellent. This is all good news. We’ll slowly see how far and strong your powers reach. Until then you should go about your life as usual. Eventually we’ll find a demon and see if you have the power to smite.”

“This is kind of awesome, I’m not gonna lie,” Dean admitted, a sheepish grin appearing on his face before he frowned, because his mind never let him dwell on an upside for too long.. “Doesn’t mean there couldn’t be some more sinister ulterior motive behind all this. I mean, as an angel, am I gonna be bound to any sort of duty? Is there some form inside of me that’s freakishly tall with multiple faces that would burn the eyes out of anyone that sees me? What if I lose control in the middle of the mall?” The panic was starting to rise again. Dean could _heal_. He could fucking _teleport_ cause he had fucking _wings_. He didn’t even _go to the mall_.

Cas’ hand landed warmly on Dean’s shoulder where his handprint used to be; he’d healed it away along with every other scar he’d gotten since Hell the day the apocalypse never was.

Instantly Dean felt his entire face flush and **that** urge, the one he thought he’d choked down with booze and women; the one that told him _he’s right there to_ _kiss, touch, taste,_ but before he could either listen to it or pull away, Cas started speaking.

“I can read your true form, tell you for sure if you’re an angel in a vessel or if you’re a hybrid.”

“Cas, do me a favor?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Don’t ever use the word ‘hybrid’ again. It makes me feel like a damn science experiment.” A beat; Dean rolled his eyes and missed the corner of Castiel’s lips tug up at the hunter’s phrasing. “So why didn’t you mention this little ‘read’ earlier?” Dean was trying to sound annoyed, he was, but Cas’ proximity was sending out a message to him ( _what was that smell_?) and he was hypnotized by it.

“It is… invasive.”

That got Dean’s attention.

“Can we skip the 20 questions routine? Just spit it out.”

“I would have to reach inside of you and feel your soul.”

Dean felt his jaw drop before trying to cover by pulling a face.

“But I thought you could already see my soul, anyway. Has that changed?”

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes; Dean spared a moment to feel pride at the small human mannerisms the angel had picked up.

“Nothing about your outward appearance has changed to me, save for your wings. And, as Balthazar mentioned,” Cas hesitated, eyes fluttering from Dean’s face, to his wings, before he looked at his own hands, “you are emitting a particular glow.”

“A glow? Like, my skin looks really nice or there’s some kind of heavenly spotlight on me?”

“I would say the former. I assure you, there’s been no word from Heaven about any of this and I don’t expect there to be.”

“Never say never,” Dean grumbled. “So we gonna do this or what?”

“We should go back to the motel room and you should eat something before we begin. This will be draining for both of us,” Cas warned, zapping himself into the Impala. Dean decided to take his time meandering through the field.

He was trying to figure out why and when he became so willing to listen to Cas implicitly. It had to be because this was all his bag. Guy had been an angel longer than Dean could even half grasp, and would definitely know more than either the Winchesters or any of their contacts. Dean was pretty sure they were setting a precedent here, anyway. No ordinary research was going to give him the answers he wanted.

Dean couldn’t deny how much Cas meant to him, knew that he was in safe hands. Cas had remained by his side while his brother was off being blissed out with Gabriel and Dean was losing count of all the reasons he was grateful for the angel he’d been saved by time and again. Maybe he really didn’t have to examine too closely why he could declare his trust for Castiel so easily; Cas was his angel and Dean, his charge. They took care of each other.

For the first time, he had someone to lean on that was strong enough to hold Dean up. Sam, even if he saw Dean’s weakness, could only _try_ to help most of the time because the older brother instincts would kick in and Dean would turn the situation around. But now Sam had Gabriel, his _mate_. Dean couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had something, too.

With that thought he got into the car, breathed in that smell just on the edge of his awareness, and turned the key, taking his usual dose of comfort in the rumble of the engine.

Angel or not, at least he’d always have his baby.


	3. Spinning on That Dizzy Edge

An hour later, having deemed Dean’s sandwich completely digested, Cas instructed him to lay down on the bed. A slight thrill went up Dean’s spine at the words falling from Cas’ slightly chapped lips, words almost purred out in his deep, rough voice –

“This will not be pleasant,” Cas whispered a moment before pressing his hand in to, literally IN to, Dean’s abdomen. Every stray thought he may or may not have been having about Cas, like a school girl with a crush, flew from his mind as he wrapped both hands tightly around Cas’ bare forearm, almost halfway _inside of him_ now, but could barely do more than that. He wanted to lash out, to rip off Castiel’s arm just to get it **out**. He was weak and sweaty, could feel himself trembling, and Cas’ face was swimming in his vision as tears filled his eyes. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it was like some kind fiery pressure on his every nerve. His skull felt too small for his brain, which was practically vibrating. Just when he’d squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his vision was slowly black out, Cas pulled his arm back. Dean’s hands went limp, falling to the bed as his body shook lightly with shivers.

“You are flesh and blood,” Castiel’s voice came out low and calm, eyes fixed on his hand as he formed and released a fist, “but your soul has new potential.”

“For what?” His eyes were drifting shut, but Dean was determined to get answers as soon as possible.

Castiel spread his wings and brought them down, disappearing, and Dean let out an incoherent shout full of every curse word he could manage, continuing to mutter angrily in what he hoped was Cas’ general direction until he passed out.

 

* * *

 

He woke up with an ache in his gut that resembled hunger but he knew was more. His upper left arm was also tingling, exactly where Cas’ handprint used to be. Still, he went for food since it was probably smart to keep himself fueled.

Giving his crap frozen dinner an angry look, as if it was the cause of this whole mess, Dean dug in, feeling resentment at being left without answers. He was also pretty pissed about being stuck without an outlet to avoid his thoughts. Even though he didn’t remember the spell being cast, he couldn’t stop thinking about what her motivation was.

Love. There wasn’t a scarier word out there as far as Dean Winchester was concerned. And yet here he was, in a situation centered around his admittance of weakness. ‘Cause that’s what love was.

Not to mention how this subject touched on all of the mommy and daddy issues he’s been harboring his entire life. This was about him getting the love he’d ached for since his mother died. The love he never felt he’d earned or, in the darkest parts of him, deserved, from his father. The love that he hoped he gave to Sam.

Now he found himself in a snafu of a species change and the only time it felt alright was when he’s with an angel. An angel who had become his friend, companion, savior… the guy who had died for him twice, who’d sacrificed his heavenly family for him in some fucked alternate reality. The being that Dean found himself just a little bit preoccupied with in the still of the night (and sometimes during the day when he was distracted by alcohol, sex, his brother, or hunting).

Cas said his soul had _potential_ before he fled like a bat outta hell, and Dean wanted to know what that meant because a part of him seemed to know it was a good thing.

People thought Dean was stupid or oblivious, but reading people had been engrained in him since he was four years old. Just because he was the king of denial when it came to his own shit didn’t mean he was out of touch.

The hunter had easily seen the blatant desire in Cas’ eyes the morning he had woken up. Saw how it had matched the stare Gabriel had been giving his brother. And if he was going to be truly honest with himself (there didn’t seem room for other options at this point) it thrilled him to know that somewhere inside of Castiel he just may want Dean.

A part of Dean wondered if maybe Cas was right. Maybe he had been given an actual reward; a chance at the truest love he could ever find in his life.

But if that was true, it was time for the real fear to set in. Dean didn’t think shit like this. Didn’t _let_ himself think it. Even going in to the situation with Lisa had been about him keeping a promise to Sam. The last time he’d been this deep, dreaming of a future kind of deep, had been Cassy.

Once that realization hit him he found himself hysterically laughing, almost wheezing by the time he calms down.

Wasn’t that just another sign that somehow, everything in his life had led to this.

Dean decided that being hard headed about something as obvious as this was pretty futile. In fact, it would probably be the worst mistake of his life, because who better to fall in love with than your best friend.

Now the dick just needed to answer his calls.

 

* * *

 

“I found a hunt,” Dean said the next evening when Cas finally showed up in the motel room, scrolls in hand.

Another two days until this thing with Sam was over, and Cas had ignored him all night. Then the prick showed up quickly, startling Dean awake (a few of his feathers had floated off when he zapped in confusion from one bed to the other) to tell him they’d found possible leads at a library in Ancient Greece. Apparently, he and Balthazar were off to transcribe them and would be gone most of the day since the scholars would still need the originals.

“There is some very important information in here that the pagans seemed to have picked up from a Seer. I’m actually quite amazed at how accurate some of his words were, though I do not believe he was a prophet of –“

“ **Cas**.” Dean’s voice was stern, and the winged warrior rounded on him defensively.

“I know I encouraged you to stick to your routine, but there are things you need to know, things in this text. I cannot be completely sure that these writings relate to what you and Sam have become, but the more I find the more believe it is a supreme blessing sanctioned by my Father.”

“Okay, so God wanted me to have wings, and the ability to heal, and all the angel mojo specials that come with the new get up. I get that. But this started because I asked for it. He didn’t just give it to me. That’s what I gotta talk to you about.”

Cas was backing away a bit, apprehension beginning to show in his furrowed brow, and Dean had to fiddle with the label on his beer bottle to keep from reaching out and soothing the lines on the angel’s forehead.

“The text made it clear that the change would only be gifted to those pure of heart whose request was made from the deepest wells of need, yet even then it would be ignored unless they deserved divine retribution. In short –“

“Yada yada, God finally cut me and Sam some slack and everything because I asked for love instead of the winning lottery numbers.”

Dean felt a thrill when he saw genuine shock, either at the revelation or the fact that the new angel had shared it so freely, on the elder angel’s face. Cas’ mouth formed an ‘oh’ for a moment before he pressed them in to a thin line, nodding slowly.

“Catching on now?”

“Well, I do understand why your wish was granted. There is nothing more blessed than love.”

“Okay hippie, I’m gonna need you to focus.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at the nickname and the affection in Dean’s tone, mouth forming another ‘oh’ of surprise when Dean brushed a hand against his jaw. This was exactly what Cas needed to avoid, because his reactions to Dean, in and out of this borrowed skin, had always been more prominent than to any other humans. Add to that the fact that Dean was giving off that glow, his scent… all of it was working to decimate Castiel’s restraint. Yet he refused to give in to his latent instincts since he knew Dean well enough to anticipate the rejection.

“That white witch called on the Grace of the universe to grant me love, and for some reason it triggered some recessive angel gene hidden in my DNA. Since you and Sam are the smart ones of this outfit and he’s MIA, how ‘bout you put two and two together for me.” Dean’s confidence was growing, along with the anticipation of finally making a move on _his_ angel.

Cas made an aborted move to sink his hands into Dean’s wings which, unbeknownst to the hunter, had stretched themselves out in a move that his instincts told him would serve duel purposes; catch the light of his wings, and present the soft underside to his potential mate. _Mate_. The word screamed at Dean, and he felt relief and disappointment both when Cas shoved his hands into the pocket of his trench coat. Everything was still so new, so raw. It was too much and not enough all at once.

“You’re saying that your wish also set in motion your transformation, so they correlate somehow.”

“Come on Cas. Don’t be dense.” Dean was losing his confidence because once **he’d** put two and two together it had seemed clear as day. It had been an abstract thought right on the border of his ‘Do Not Cross’ line long before the wings. And fuck, couldn’t Cas _smell_ him. Because he could damn well smell Cas and he was pretty sure that shit was biologically reciprocal. At least, he hoped.

“It would stand to reason that, that your love lies in someone who –“

“Geez, man, sometimes I think you do it on purpose.”

Dean reached for the front of Cas’ trench coat, grip tight to prevent a disappearing act.

Castiel didn’t have the chance to ask what he might be doing on purpose when Dean leaned forward and planted his lips firmly against his slack mouth.

Barely giving the other angel the chance to respond, Dean sucked Castiel’s lower lip between his own, flicking it with his tongue. His body surged forward to press up against Cas when a hand landed in just the right spot on his shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas croaked, hand tightening on Dean’s shoulder as he brought his free one to the new angel’s cheek. Forcing himself to pull Dean away from the kisses he was scattering across the older angel’s neck, Cas managed to breathe out, “Dean, are you sure this is what you want?”

Dean nodded, eyes locking on to Castiel’s to bring his point home in their established mode on non-verbal communication. He didn’t break the connection as he turned his head to press a damp kiss to the center of Cas’ palm. The way Cas sucked a breath in through his nose caused Dean’s wings to fly forward and tentatively brush against Castiel’s own.

That seemed to jolt the Celestial.

“We need to talk about this. You need to understand what you’re getting in to, please, Dean,” Cas sounded worried, which seemed to cut through the haze of their joining scents that was clogging Dean’s senses.

“Does everything have to be done academically with you? For fuck’s sake, I told you why this happened Cas. What this means.” But Dean reminded himself that while he had readily accepted that love had meant Castiel, he really wasn’t sure what that meant. “Fuck. It was so easy for Sammy, going in to his heat.”

“That’s another reason I want to collect all of the information as soon as possible. Once he’s in his right mind Sam will want to be filled in. He may have seemed aware and coherent, but once the heat runs its course who knows how much he'll remember. First heats are a bit like drug trips or benders; you think you know what's happening until you wake up.”

Dean saw right through Cas’ adopted back-to-business tone and distraction technique, but he backed away and sat on the bed, giving Castiel room to think. He probably had a point; worry for his baby brother crashed over him sharply before he remembered his brother was mated and instinct told the older brother that Gabriel would look after Sam. Which, considering what the archangel trickster prick had done in the past, might have seemed strange, but everything was different now. That thought in mind Dean wrapped his wings around himself in a manner that was nothing close to sulking as he watched Castiel.

The total change of subject had wiped the pleasant tension from the air, and Dean was definitely not pouting about it. He was sitting there quietly as Castiel paced and determinedly gave him space. Which was difficult, considering he’d just spilled his guts all over the floor and Cas’ thinking face now seemed to include skimming his tongue across his lower lip and biting down.

When the silenced stretched on for too long, Dean succumbed to his screaming need to break it. He wanted to get this show on the road.

“I still don’t get why you’re in such a rush. Sam’s gonna be… occupied for the next day or two.”

Cas looked at him like he was continuing a conversation they hadn't just been having, and Dean wondered where the angel’s mind had gone.

“I’m still collecting all of the data I can on the mating rituals and the laws of angelic conception –“

“What now?”

“- so it can be avoided –“

“Did you really just say ‘conception’?”

“- if they so wish to avoid it,” Castiel finished, eyeing Dean’s face in confusion. “What did you think the result of a coupling would be, Dean? I know humans copulate casually, but its basic function is procreation. Even if they experienced pleasure now gifted to the flesh, Celephilim mated to breed.”

“But – but they’re both male!” It was the only rational argument Dean could come up with when being faced with a word like _breed_. Would that be what would happen if he and Cas –

“Angels are genderless. I’ve told you that before.” There was a weight behind Castiel’s words that Dean couldn’t identify because he was still stuck on all of the technical jargon and threat of _procreating_ and how it was really taking the fun out of prospective angelsex. “That’s why there’s a cast system of Alphas, Omegas, and Betas.”

“So, what? Alphas are like, the dominant ones, Omegas and Betas are the submissive ones? Right? So the Omega or Beta can get pregnant?” _Whether they’re a guy or girl_ , Dean wanted to add, ‘cause he still couldn’t understand the concept of a genderless, skyscraper-sized Castiel. His vessel was a male human, but the power he radiated was something completely different, and all of it, every detail, is what Dean had fallen for. He’d get over the guy thing, he would. But which one of them was the Alpha?

As if Castiel could hear his thoughts his nostrils flared as his wings spread to their full span. Dean responded by baring the underside of his wings again but his head, of its own volition, leaned to the side in an offering that made Cas growl softly. That was when Dean felt his dick twitch and a wetness begin to dampen a place that was _not_ supposed to get wet.

“You’re an Omega, Dean.”

“Shit.”

Dean dropped to his knees, blood pounding in his ears.

“Shit,” he repeated, shaky hands coming to his brow line as he stared, unseeing, at the carpet, until his hands were batted away.

“This is why I’m holding back.” Cas cupped Dean’s cheek, tipping his head back softly until their eyes met. Dean reached up to borrow strength enough to stay upright by holding on to Castiel’s thigh. Dean’s tawny wings were sagging, gold and burnt orange feathers pooling on his calves.

“From the moment I descended into the Pit and sensed your soul, I loved you in a way I didn’t understand. I had only ever loved my Father and humanity as a whole. When I saw your soul –“

What had started out so soothing descended into territory he never wanted to enter, and Dean flinched. Castiel reached for his hands, pulling gently until he was standing, and steered him towards the bed.

“You’re my Alpha, aren’t you?” The question was completely rhetorical; the hunter sounded defeated. Dean knew it now, like he knew that the sky was blue and the Colt wouldn’t kill the Devil.

“Only if you so choose,” Castiel responded softly, eyes on the stand by the bed. “I should be going.”

“Cas.” It came out broken, so Castiel had no choice but to comfort the Omega. He leaned in for a soft, hopefully reassuring, kiss. Dean responded, so Castiel thought he had made the right move even as his body urged him for more. Still he kept the kiss light and pulled away slowly.

“I’ll come back later and watch over you as you sleep, if you wish.” Cas said it quietly, like he knew it would embarrass Dean which it really, really did, because that should creep him the fuck out, but –

“Yeah, I’d, uh, I guess I’d be okay with that.”

With a last brush of lips against lips Castiel pulled up Dean’s hands, kissed each of his knuckles, and was gone.


	4. I Kissed Your Face and Kissed Your Head

“What are we gonna call you guys, is what I’m trying to figure out.”

Gabriel’s arrival into Dean’s room jolted him awake as the archangel settled himself comfortably on the second bed.

Dean barely spared him a glance as he stretched and looked at the chair near the bed; it was empty. Castiel's scent lingered but the angel was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, Dean shook out his feathers and turned back to the archangel.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean hadn't seen his brother in over a day and Gabriel looked more than a little ruffled around the edges, in a good way; there was that glow.

"Sleeping; I'm kind of jealous. As a Beta the heat isn't so overpowering unless I'm near him, and as a Celestial I don't sleep, but damn am I worn out. Your brother is an -"

"No details; how hard is that for you to understand?"

But Dean was distracted from any response Gabriel may have given when a cloying smell hit his nostrol. His brain screamed out the word  _rival_.

The bathroom door swung open and out swaggered Balthazar, Castiel’s new shadow.

“You know a job isn’t glamorous when you find yourself washing up with _bar soap_.” The way he sneered through the last two words set Dean off.

“No one is forcing you to be here,” he growled out as he rose from the bed. He spread his wings in challenge, presenting them at full length as a wave of oil coated them to add a shine, proving himself to be the more worthy possessor of Castiel's affections.

Luckily Balthazar saw it for what it was and decided to nip this posturing in the bud; it was a game he had already grown weary of.

“Really, darling, you’ve got nothing to worry about there. I may be a latent Beta but I fuck like an Alpha and I promise you, I have no interest in Cassie.” Balthazar affected a fake shudder, and still Dean’s shoulders didn’t relax. Not until he heard beating wings and felt a warm hand pressed between his wing joints, the sound of his thousands of feathers shifting filling the room as his entire posture relaxed.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’ sounded almost like he was teasing him, and Dean turned around and threw his arms around his mate's waist. It was a swift move that seemed practiced, and though he reveled in the feel of Castiel pressed up against him -

“This is fucking weird, Cas.” He'd been ready to attack until Castiel showed up.

The hand had remained warm and steady on his back even after his abrupt one eighty.

“I have managed to find more information that should help to make it all easier to understand.”

“Won’t make it any less weird, though,” Gabriel chimed in.

Castiel had been staring at Dean in that searching way, obviously checking Dean for further signs of distress. “I asked them to join me in case they could help me answer your questions.”

“Cas mentioned you got a little green when he brought up the whole ‘procreating’ thing.” Gabriel's voice dripped of derision as he and Balthazar exchanged almost pitying looks.

Dean’s jaw clenched, but he wouldn’t give either of the Celestials an inch, so he forced himself to turn and face them, rolling his eyes. Still, Cas’ hand remained on his back.

 “I wanna know what Cas meant when he said my soul had ‘potential’.”

Cas’ hand, which had been absently sliding up and down between his joint, stuttered to a stop for about ten seconds before it started to move again.

“This goes back to what the hell we’re supposed to call you two. You are not human, nor Celestial, and you aren’t quite Celephilim.” Dean rolled his eyes as Balthazar was beginning what sounded like a monologue. Fucking angels sure loved the sound of their own voices. “’Potential’ means that someday, somehow, you will become a full Celephilim, but until that point your soul remains wholly human in function and appearance.’

“That probably means you won’t be getting your smite on,” Gabriel added, looking like he almost felt bad about that.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary, anyway, since the demons are coming back home.”

Every jaw in the room dropped, even Balthazar's, when Lucifer’s voice cut in. There he was, the Devil himself, standing calmly in the center of the room as if he’d always been there.

No one quite knew how to react but they had all gone tense, ready to strike. Lucifer put both hands up in the air.

“Hey, whoa, don’t everyone say ‘hi’ at once. Man, even the stale air in this craphole of a room smells good. Free of blood and full of pheromones.”

He waggled his eyebrows at Gabriel, who might just be the most stunned person in the room.

“Alive **and** getting’ some? I must say, Gabriel, I’m impressed.”

Gabe’s eyebrow lifted, his face as serious as it ever got, and he shook his head slowly.

“That so?” A lollipop appeared out of nowhere and Gabriel popped it in his mouth, an attempt at casual that was clearly a creature comfort.

“Hmm. Making an illusion real enough to convince me? I guess you learned a few tricks of your own while I was gone.”

It had seemed a mistake to have kept his back to Balthazar, who slowly snuck up behind Lucifer and raised an angel blade to his throat.

Dean’s was holding his breath, brain still caught on a loop of _Lucifer, Detroit, Sammy, Lucifer, Detroit, Sammy_ until he once again felt the return of Castiel's hand, which the Celestial had dropped in shock. Added to that soothing touch were tendrils of something almost smoke like skating up and down his spine. Dean barely suppressed a shudder, trying his hardest to focus on what Satan, standing in his motel room, was saying.

“That really isn’t necessary, Balthy.”

“Am I the only one here wondering how in the _hell_ you got out of the cage,” was Balthazar’s hissed response.

“Here I am, hoping to have a nice little reunion with a few of my little brothers but I guess it’s all business. You guys are worse than Michael.”

“You’re still such a whiner, Lucie. It really isn’t becoming.” Gabriel’s tone was scathing.

“Enough.”

Castiel’s voice was stern, hand heating up against Dean’s skin.

“Explain to us how you are out of the cage and why you are here, or Balthazar is going to put a hole in your neck.”

“Ah, hello, Castiel. Another one, back from the dead. But yours _wasn’t_ an illusion.” Lucifer sounded genuinely intrigued, and Dean did not like the way the archangel was eyeing Cas. “You really shook things up.”

“Understatement. Now. Answer him.” Balthazar nudged the blade, pulling the archangel’s attention back to the blade digging it into his neck.

“It seems that whatever light that witch invoked was powerful. I’m talking old as dirt, unfathomably ancient magic. It called on mine and Michael’s Graces.”

“Can we skip the foreplay, honestly,” Balthazar intoned.

“You guys are no fun. All I know is our Father may have set certain dominoes in place, but He didn’t create new Grace.”

“He took the energy from your Graces to spark the change in Dean?” Castiel sounded so clinical, and the entire explanation was ringing hollow in Dean’s ears.

“So we were powered up with the devil’s soul? That’s comforting,” Dean let out with a short laugh.

“Celestials are not made of soul; we are multi-dimensional wavelengths,” Castiel explained, which really explained nothing.

“And that’s what Sam and I have the potential to become?” The semi-Celephilim felt a headache begin to form in the center of his forehead.

“Can we worry about you and your brother after we get some other things clarified,” Balthazar cut in, still with the blade to his older brother’s neck. “Like, how he and Michael are out and about, and something about the demons going to back to Hell.”

“We’re just out, Balthy. I can’t explain it any better than you. I’m powered down, but it seems I was strong enough that I could spare a bit. Besides, I've still got a job to do in the Pit." He sounded strange; there was a distinct lack of the older bitterness in his tone. It was making Dean uncomfortable.

When no one made to interrupt or inquire further, Lucifer sighed dramatically and continued.

"Michael’s different too; I think I’ve inspired a little rebellion in him. Don't worry though, it wasn't enough for him to ’let Heaven fall into continued disrepair’; his words, not mine.”

Lucifer sounded bored now; finally something Dean recognized from the fallen angel who’d been ready to trash humans in a fight to the death against his brother; the same brother he was now speaking of so fondly.

“He’s still quite powerful. He’s upstairs dealing with Raphael, hopefully assigning him my grunt work so I can delegate and keep tabs on all of my favorite brothers.” He cut his eyes to Dean, ogling him slightly. The hunter felt himself blush as he realized he was still shirtless. “And my new in-laws. How is Sammy?”

Dean took a step forward, ready to attack, when he felt a shift behind him and turned to see Castiel, his liquid blue black feathers puffed out and threatening.

“Did you at least tell the kids how to officially join the cool club?” Lucifer’s shit eating grin was the same as always, sending out a clear message of _I know something you don’t know_. Dean wanted to beat it off of his face.

“I think it’s time for you to go.”

It was surprisingly Gabriel who cut in through the standoff. When no one shifted, except Balthazar, looking to Castiel for an order, Gabriel cleared his throat and stood from the bed.

“Dean-o, go make yourself presentable and get Cas there a burger. I’ll handle this.”

Castiel seemed to be silently communicating with Balthazar who gave a terse nod.

Dean noticed the ex-trickter's eyes had a hard glint to them as they rested on his big brother, and Dean realized he was standing in defense of Sam. In defense of his mate. It made Dean feel a little lighter, knowing that the job of protecting Sam ran deep in someone else, someone powerful.

Snatching up a shirt, Dean gave Lucifer one last hard look. He hoped he was right in trusting the older, more powerful angels to handle a powered-down Devil.

The hunter headed toward the door, Castiel on his six.

“I don’t want to go out in public, Dean. There’s still a lot to talk about.”

"You can say that again," the Omega grumbled.

 

* * *

 

That’s how they ended up back at the empty cornfield with some drive-thru junk food. Dean was sure that he’d been sent to some alternate reality because they were sitting on Cas’ trench coat, leaning against his baby, eating their food (Cas didn’t need food, but he hadn’t quite lost his taste for burgers) pressed against each other’s side, like some kind of rom-com picnic.

“If angels are genderless, why do you call each other ‘brother’ and ‘sister’? Those aren’t genderless nouns,” Dean had wondered that for a while. He crumpled up his wrapper and stuck it in the empty bag as he watched Cas savor his last few bites. He barely resisted the urge to replace Cas’ mouth with his own as the Celestial licked the grease from his fingers before answering.

“They are the translation for our Enochian words for one another. They spawned from –“

“No don’t tell me, lemme guess; Alpha and Omega?” The words had a new meaning behind them; seemed to brand themselves under Dean’s skin.

“Precisely. Betas were usually classified in that context as brothers because Omegas are unique and special. We do not have many sisters in heaven.” Castiel finished wiping his hands on napkins, which Dean thought was redundant since he could clean himself with a mere thought, stuffing his own garbage back into the bag.

“I’m a freaking ‘sister’?” There was no way Dean would ever respond to that. Shit, he’d deck the first angel that tried to call him ‘sister’ because he was all man, whether or not he was an Omega.

“No, Dean.” Castiel let out an affectionate but frustrated huff of air. If only his dear friend had read the material he’d provided. “You aren’t a sibling to any of the Celestials or Cherubs. Our Father created us all in a short span for the purpose of serving as Host in Heaven. You were born and made human. Whether you had the dormant gene makes no difference. We are no more related than you are to people outside of your blood line.”

Dean, glad to clear that up, gathered up the garbage and stuffed it in the bag. He leaned forward to toss it onto the floor of the front seat. When he moved to recline, he repositioned himself so that his back draped across Cas’ chest, head resting on his shoulder. It gave Dean a strange thrill that something so new could feel so fucking natural. Clearly Castiel felt the same way, since he made no protest. Instead he brought a hand up to rest gingerly across Dean's abdomen.

“Does this mean I’m gonna have to learn to speak Enochian?”

Cas squirmed a bit.

“You could, yes. It will come in useful. But I’m not sure you’ll be able to hear my true voice or see my form until you’ve transformed fully.”

“Yeah, how’s that work?”

“You might know if you skimmed the reading I brought you,” Cas reminded, breath skimming against Dean’s ear as the hunter turned to catch the angel’s eye.

“It’s easier if you just tell me. Or show me,”Dean was flirting in dangerous territory. But this close to the Alpha ( _his_ Alpha, a voice in his head supplied),  wings resting a mere hairbreadth apart, the newly awakened Omega inside of him could think of little else than finally finding out what made his angel tick.

Castiel affected a put upon sigh, but he couldn’t hide the lifted corners of his mouth.

“It’s a very serious matter, and an eternal commitment. The full transformation will happen after an official mating.”

Dean sat up, elbow digging into Cas’ stomach. and turned himself around, face pinched in fear.

“Does that mean Sam’s gonna go all wavelength?” The horror on his face confirmed for Castiel that Dean was in no way ready for the full change.

“No, Sam and Gabriel have acknowledged their connection and are satisfying his heat,” a wince from Dean, ‘cause ew, “but they don’t have any intentions of procreating.”

“So Gabriel knows loopholes?”

“He has some knowledge of Celephilim mating rituals, yes. Between that and the scrolls, we learned that there must be a mutual acknowledgement of the decision to create new life. The Celephilim enjoyed the intimacy, not just the carnal pleasure, of intercourse. They called it Grace-sharing. Humans call it love-making.”

Dean wanted to be talking about this in any other context but his brother and his mate. “So when you and me finally ‘acknowledge our connection’, it won’t be an official mating?”

Now it was Castiel’s turn to look uncomfortable as he shook his head, eyes burning a line of heat where they drew over Dean’s wings.

Dean forced himself to continue his train of thought. “But we’ll still get to make love?”

It was so cheesy he couldn’t help but blush. When he felt the heat spread down his chest he knew he was flushing from more than embarrassment; this was all Dean could have asked for, (and fuck could he sound more like a girl) even if he was a bit overwhelmed by what it would entail.

“So you’re sure this is what you want?” Castiel eyes were still skimming the edges of Dean’s wings, which were glowing in the snatches of sunlight hitting them over the Impala.

There was a waver in Cas’ voice that Dean had never heard before, and he needed it to be gone. He leaned forward and nudged his nose against Cas’ cheek, inhaling deeply. His head was swimming with Castiel’s scent as his hands slowly rose to frame his mate’s jaw.

“I’ve wanted this with someone for a long time. I just figured; I’m a hunter, that’s not in the cards for me. And when I tried it ended badly, and it’s just all such a liability, and... shit. I didn’t even know I wanted it that bad until Parmida asked.”

“And I am a viable option because you know me already, and I was the first Alpha in your proximity.”

“What? No, no. I’m getting’ to that.” None of it was coming out the way Dean wanted. “You are way more than just a viable option. You’re Cas. You’re my friend. My best friend. My… angel. _My_ angel. My _mate_. My **Alpha**.” It was amazing, how Dean’s voice dropped lower with each claim, how quickly Castiel’s pupil’s dilated upon hearing those last two words. “This isn’t be bein’ some newborn imprinting on you. You gotta know. I just, you were always untouchable. But then she made me worthy of you.”

“You were always worthy of me,” the Alpha’s word was final and that was it for Dean; in the face of Castiel’s absolute faith in _him_ he was helpless. The entire world fell away as his perception narrowed to him, his mate, and the reach of their wings; nothing outside of  **them** mattered.

The Omega pressed their lips together, softly at first, before he swiped his tongue out along the seam of Cas’ lips and the Alpha get out a loud growl.

Before Dean knew what was happening he was on his back and his mate was slotting between his legs. Cas pulled back to search Dean’s face to any signs of regret so, to show his approval, the Omega planted his feet on the ground and lifted his hips, drawing a sucking breath from Cas before their mouths were mashed together, almost painfully, and their tongues were battling for dominance. Dean lifted his hips again until he finally felt it; Cas, his Alpha, was hard. Dean felt his asshole _quiver_ in a completely foreign way before he realized –

“Am I _wet_?”

Only it came out as a moan instead of a horrified demand for a fucking explanation, and he briefly remembered that it had happened once before, but then his hips were grinding upwards to seek to heat of his mate and coherency fled.

The Celestial licked a line from Dean’s collarbone to his jaw line. Dipped his nose behind his Omega’s ear to catch his scent before pulling away to meet Dean’s hazy eyes.

When Dean saw just how dark his Alpha’s eyes had gone he felt pleasure lacing from the center of his forehead (another something new) to his groin and ass before it spread until his fingers and toes were tingling. Omega caught a glimpse of his mate’s red and swollen his lips, wanted to lick and bite his way back into that mouth, kiss him for every time he’s wanted to but couldn’t; it was all he could think about. Had he asked a question?

“This is why I wanted to talk about it before we went too far,” Cas bit out, trying to stop his hips from pressing down, harder, closer, even as his Grace worked with his now domineering Alpha instincts to make their clothing disappear.

Their cocks slipped side by side, beads of pre-come smearing as they slid together hotly.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean hissed.

Cas held himself up on one hand as he brought the other down to their erections, wrapping around them loosely and staring at his hand in awe.

“The first joining of mates is barely controlled, even without a heat,” Cas forced out, voice sounding steady in a way his body wasn’t. He skimmed his head down to share another deep kiss with his mate but then tore himself away. Words now, and then he could take and have. Hopefully. Oh Father, please, let him have this. Let _them_ have this.

Castiel reluctantly released them, Dean whining in protest and spreading his legs further, pleading for things he didn’t even completely understand. The Omega in him knew what he wanted, but his still human mind was still a few vital steps behind.

“I’m going to touch you now, Dean,” Castiel breathed, fingers trailing over Dean’s balls to move further back, down down down, until they reached the rim of his _drippingwetwhatthefuck_ hole. Dean sighed because **what the fuck** but he wanted more.

“You are wet; so wet for me. For my knot,” the Alpha asserted, hips pressing forward again to leaving a wet line on Dean’s thigh.

“Your what?” The words made sense, but Castiel was almost positive Dean didn’t even realize he was speaking because he was pressing back against the cock at his thigh and the finger at his hole. “ _Cas_.”

Castiel figured he would address it again when it was relevant, he swore he would. But his Omega **needed** and it was his duty, his pleasure, to provide.

“I’ve got you,” he promised against Dean’s lips, kissing him softly as he pressed his finger against yielding muscle. Dean let out a surprised moan around Castiel’s tongue when the Alpha started to pull, push, twist, and crook his finger, barely breathing as he breached his mate for the first time.

Pressing in a second digit and floating high on the pleasured sounds falling from Dean’s lips, Castiel kissed a line down Dean’s neck, adding a third because he knew his mate was more than ready; the elder angel was forcing every last bit of focus into easing his new lover in to this.

“Fuck, you said _knot_ , can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Dean?”

Castiel’s fingers stuttered to a stop just as he was readying to add the fourth just because he knew he could

“Want it, I’m ready; know what it means now. C’mon, I want you, Cas, please. Need you,” Dean pushed back on Cas’ still hand as he spoke, vibrating wings moving forward to entwine their feathers and tug. “Inside me, now.”

The Alpha inside of Cas roared and his vision blurred, eyes blinking back into focus just as he was lining himself up.

The world seemed to still as he pushed in slowly, but it was the quiet before a nuclear explosion as Dean dug his nails into Cas’ back with a howl.

“I’ve got you, always got you,” Castiel assured his mate, hips finding a rhythm as well as they could with Dean digging his heels into the Alpha’s ass to urge him deeper still.

“All of it, Cas, c'mon Alpha,” the Omega commanded, words punching out of him followed by ragged breathing; he wasn’t lying when he said he knew what it meant. The knowledge had him craving it all the more.

“Everything, Dean,” Castiel’s hot breath fanned the promise across Dean’s chest as the Alpha dove for his mate’s nipples, licking or biting one and then the other in a pattern that wasn’t a pattern, sometimes breaking off to suck a mark onto Dean’s collar or shoulder.

Dean’s hands landed in Cas’ hair on a particularly hard nip, tugging his mate’s strands and his feathers simultaneously.

Castiel’s back arched and it caused him to hit something inside of Dean, something that brought the Omega from a middle ground of _mm, could stay in this feeling forever_ to _now, now, take, give, dosomethingdamnit_ and had him screaming Cas’ name.

“You’re so perfect, so beautiful Dean. _My perfect Omega_.” Cas let the words tumble from his lips before practically biting off his own tongue as Dean squeezed tight around him and he felt his knot begin to swell. “You are –“

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” the frustrated hunter forced out. “This was all for you so c’mon, Alpha – stake your claim.” The fire in his tone and eyes burned through Castiel and he pushed forward into the yielding, yearning flesh until they were locked, shifting his hips and matching Dean’s moans until he felt a warm splash against his stomach, felt his Omega’s thighs shaking until they fell from around his hips. He grabbed them, squeezing tight when the sweat threatened his grasp, rotating his hips as Dean rode out his high.

There was a crackle of static electricity around them, running through them, surrounding them in a suspended moment that made Dean feel pressurized, the same sensation the new angel got when he flew, until the Omega squeezed his tired muscles tight around his Alpha’s knot.

“All yours.”

The scratchy declaration set off Castiel’s orgasm, the rushing of blood so loud in his ears he didn’t get to hear Dean’s pleasured sigh.

When Castiel came to his face was squished into Dean’s neck.

“Sticky,” the hunter mumbled.

“Hmm?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dean realized. ‘Cause it didn’t. He was sweaty, his wings were oily, and they seemed to be tangled with a few of Cas’; there was come that would soon cool pressed between theirs torsos, and oh yeah, they were locked together by a knot that had seemed perfectly copacetic to Dean’s new instincts while his logic was a muffled voice screaming _what the hell_ but none of it mattered cause he was full of, surrounded by, his Alpha. His questions could wait ‘cause there was nothing wrong with this picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whispers*
> 
> more is coming I promise I hope you've liked it so far aaah okay I love you for reading I'll be back I swear


	5. Twisting in the Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this before it's beta'd because I am anxious to get it up. This chapter was the hardest to write by far. SO. MUCH. PLOT. I'm doing the thing where I wrap things up neatly in a way the show has never and probably will never do, but I didn't make nearly enough notes so it was all a jumble in my head. I hope I got it out okay.
> 
> Umm I may not be writing the last chapter for a few days, but who knows. I'm sorry for the wait! I promise this will be finished before next weekend. Cross my heart! I love you all, and I hope you're pleased with this installment. Mkay, on with the story.

It was the feeling of eyes on him that stirred Dean back to the waking world. Castiel, ever vigilant, had apparently cleaned them up whilst his Omega dozed. Their wings no longer threatened to matte together, instead Dean’s lay lax at his side. He felt a tickling sensation against them when Cas dipped and rubbed his own along the edges of his mate’s.

The Celestial was sitting between Dean’s spread ankles with his side to the hunter, both legs thrown over Dean’s calf, knees pointed skyward. One hand was following his wingtips in soft caresses while his other held him up on his trench coat which was still splayed out haphazardly beneath them. Castiel had apparently cleaned that, as well.

Dean stretched out his limbs and, without thought, brought a hand down to his ass; there was no sign of stickiness to be found, even though he’d clearly felt his own slick (fuck, he still wasn’t quite over that development) dripping down his thighs earlier. They weren’t locked together anymore (why wasn’t that freaking him out more, the new angel wondered) and Dean rubbed his fingers against his rim before pushing one inside, almost as if in a daze.

“I’m still really wet,” Dean whispered, mouth hanging open as his eyes drifted closed; that wasn’t just his own moisture, either. His angel had cleaned up everything but the most intimate evidence of their mating.

Castiel’s brow furrowed.

“I didn’t –“

“I – I like it,” Dean choked out, not remembering giving consent to his mouth to say those things but he’d be damned if he didn’t mean them. He’d probably have to get used to the truth finding its way out of him, at least where Castiel was concerned; the Omega was incapable of withholding anything from his Alpha. And fuck, but the idea of being marked in such a carnal way by his mate –

Castiel pulled on his arm, sliding out the finger Dean had been subconsciously rocking against, already half hard and panting.

“We should really be getting back to the motel,” the Alpha said regretfully. There was no place Castiel would rather be than wrapped up in the smell and body of his so stunningly willing Omega, but there were matters that had to be dealt with before they could lose themselves.

Cas still wasn’t sure when Dean would go into heat and kick start the Alpha’s own, and the Celestial was still adamant about the new angel educating himself on just what exactly he had become; may still become. Not to mention there were the newly sprung Lucifer and Michael to deal with.

“Fuck, okay. You’re right.” Dean groaned, before he made the visible effort of pulling himself together. “But we’re doing that again. Soon.”

“As soon as possible, I promise,” Castiel said, watching Dean carefully while clothing them both again between one breath and the next.

Dean caught Castiel’s look as he fought off the urge to whine at the loss of his mate’s bare skin and forced himself, once again, to focus.

“You’re expecting me to freak out,” he guessed after a few ticks of loaded silence, reading the hesitation in every move Castiel made.

“Yes.”

Taking in a deep breath, Dean brought up a hand to run through his hair. Being honest with his mate was one thing; pure instinct and absolute trust that would kill him if broken drove the truth right out of him. But that required him first to be honest with himself, which was something he’d fought against for a long time. Right now he was still trying to figure out why he wasn’t high tailing it to the nearest bar for some semblance of normality; shit, even an innocent flirtation with a beautiful, curvy _woman_ that he could share a drink and a laugh with should be something he was craving. As soon as he’d started to recognize his feelings for Castiel that had always been how he handled it

Right now, though, he could care less about some meaningless encounter with a faceless woman; the idea actually made him extremely uncomfortable. Now that all was said and done, Dean’s biggest concern was the doubt he saw in his Alpha’s eyes. That was what he needed to deal with.

The Omega followed his instinct, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips, reaching out a hand to run a finger over his angel’s stubble.

“I’m not going to,” it was said quietly, but with a powerful conviction behind it meant to reassure them both. He was ready to let himself have something good for once.

“Alright,” Castiel agreed, turning his head to kiss the finger still tracing his jaw line.

“Really, Cas,” Dean insisted; he wanted to make sure that Castiel _knew_ that even if Dean didn’t completely understand what was happening, he knew enough to be sure it was, for lack of a better word, a blessing. It was important to express this, Dean told himself, but he found his eyes following his fingers as the digits moved along the span of Cas’ lips.

 Damnit, he really wanted to make this point but he couldn’t stop thinking about how those lips, those pale pink wide stretching slightly chapped lips had been an obsession of his for a while now and he how technically had every right to indulge in them; it was a heady feeling.

Dean’s filter slipped away as the Omega inside of him screamed desperately to convince his Alpha of the importance of their commitment.

“I’m a fucking mess, and I do everything the hard way, but Cas,” Dean leaned forward, practically crawling into Castiel’s lap, fighting against the tears of frustration that were springing to his eyes as he pressed their foreheads together.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean repeated, rolling his eyes in self-deprecation slightly when Castiel made shushing noises. Who was comforting whom? “I don’t know what I got ‘til it’s shrinking in my rearview. I drink too much and I’m a pretty miserable cuss when I want to be and I didn’t realize I loved you until Sammy was in the cage and you were gone. Cried like a fucking baby halfway to Lisa’s once I saw you healed away the handprint and all I could think about was I’d just lost the two people I care about most, in the fucking blink of an eye.”

Dean took in a few steadying breaths, barely believing what was coming out of his mouth but glad for it and hoping his mate could sense his gratitude that he wasn’t interrupting. His silent and steady support reminded Dean why he had fallen for the angel in the first place; unconditional love was a rarity in his life, and this beautiful being who gave it to him so willingly did so with the truest knowledge of his very **soul**. Warmth blossomed in Dean’s chest and spurred him on.

“That’s why I only stayed with them for a few days. That’s why when you brought back Sammy I told you not to be a stranger. Why I prayed to you _every night_ while you were upstairs fighting the good fight. I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve any of it, man, but there’s no way I’m givin’ it up,” and since this was getting far too maudlin and sappy (and fuck he might be an Omega but that didn’t mean his life was a damn chick flick) he felt compelled to add, “especially not after what may or may not have been the best sex I’ve ever had.”

Castiel’s face flashed something heated before he gave Dean his patented head tilt.

“I don’t doubt your love for me,” he promised on a breath, entwining their wings. “I’ve felt it since I cradled your soul to mine; a part of me must have known then that we were fated. I healed your arm because it was a claim made when we were rising. A claim I wasn’t sure was reciprocated once I knew you on Earth.”

“I’m sorry.” How different would things have been if he’d known of Castiel’s feelings, Dean couldn’t help but wonder.

“Dean, there is nothing to regret. Every moment has led here and if you are sure –“

“I am.”

“- then all I ask is that you educate yourself on what it means. Maybe then I’ll feel less worried that something will happen that I haven’t explained and you’ll…”

“Freak out,” Dean finished for him. “Okay, I can do that.”

A soft press of lips that didn’t last nearly long enough was Castiel’s thank you.

Dean forced himself to stand up and Castiel did the same, trench coat on him with nary a wrinkle by the time he straightened.

“Time to face the music, then.”

“It _is_ very loud,” Castiel responded, and Dean smirked at his oblivious angel as they got into the Impala.

“You’re just like Sammy; no taste for the finer things,” Dean said, turning the key in the ignition and smiling when ‘Crazy Train’ began playing.

Cas just shook his head in amusement, yet another human trait he had picked up, when Dean started singing along as he drove them back to hateful reality.

 

 

* * *

 

  

Never had Dean come down from a high as fast as he did when he opened his room door.

The scene that greeted them sounded like the beginning of a bad joke; ‘a hunter, the Devil, an angel, and a demon are playing a friendly game of poker when…’

“Seriously?”

Bobby put down the cards in his hand, giving the other table’s occupants the sign for ‘I’m out’ before getting up and ushering Dean back outside. Castiel followed after sharing a quick nod with Balthazar.

“Where the hell have you two idjits been? Know what, never mind that.” Bobby waved a hand at Dean’s face when the younger man moved to respond. “Care to explain to me why I got a call from a ‘dead’ angel tellin’ me you boys popped out some wings and to haul ass here?”

Fucking Gabriel.

“Uh –“

“And oh, yeah, not only are you boys angels _yourselves_ but Sam’s off gettin’ angel- **married** to the afformentioned not-so-dead _Gabriel_ , and when I get here I’m greeted by the Devil?”

“Bobby –“

“What? None o’ that seemed worthy of a **phone call**?” The vein that always made Dean nervous was popping out in Bobby’s neck and he couldn’t help but go on the defensive.

“I’ve been sorta distracted with the whole _species change_. Lucifer… it’s complicated. I dunno what the hell he’s doing here. When we left Gabriel said he was gonna take care of it. Anyway, you were the one playing poker with him; the fuck did we miss? Should I be throwing holy water in your face?”

Balthazar seemed to have removed himself from the game as well, alerting them to his presence with a primly cleared throat.

“No worries, dear. It’s all on the up and up. Of course I don’t need to ask what _we_ missed,” Balthazar muttered the last part, surreptitiously shooting Castiel thumbs up and getting a raised eyebrow in return.

The two hunters ignored him.

“Don’t know much o’ what’s going right now, ‘sides the fact that somethin’ this serious happened and no one saw fit to tell me.”

The look on the older man’s face, the genuine hurt etched into his scowl, was enough to deflate Dean’s defenses.

“I’m sorry, Bobby. Really, I am. With the whole Sam and Gabriel thing, and um, the reason this all happened –“

“Somethin’ about an altruistic witch and an ‘angel gene’?”

“Tongues were wagging over the cards, I guess. Why you askin’ if you already know?”

Dean felt himself tense up again; talking about this to Bobby was probably the scariest part of this entire experience thus far. Even worse than Lucifer, ‘cause nothing was scarier to Dean than the prospect that Bobby might be disgusted by him.

Balthazar broke the silence.

“About that, mate; Gabriel must’ve surfaced for air at some point this morning. Gramps here showed up just after you two left and I wasn’t sure how much you wanted him to know. We told him little more than the bare bones.”

Dean gritted his teeth, turning to his mate for support only to find Cas with his head inclined towards Balthazar, deep in an almost silent conversation. Ignoring the flare of _my mate, mine_ that well up inside and shooting them one last glare, Dean looked back at Bobby. With a deep breath, the new angel looked at the man he was closer to than his own father and tried to make his mouth cooperate.

“Yeah, the witch, see, I saved her life and she wanted to repay me by granting a wish… I mean, I didn’t know it happened, still can’t remember her actually doing it… but anyway, the wish she granted… shit.”

Bobby was looking at him like he had two heads, and Dean felt his face heating up. ‘Just spit it out,’ he told himself, forcing his tongue to untie.

“It was to grant me my deepest desire.” That’s as far as he got before his whole mouth dried up, causing Bobby to roll his eyes.

“You really did turn in to one o’ these angels, what with your inability to properly answer a damn question.” But Bobby’s features had taken one that quiet patience that reminded Dean of target practice and ball tosses in the park, easing some of the pressure in his chest.

He reached up a hand to rub over his face and concentrated until he saw Bobby’s eyes widen at the shadow of wings on the pavement.

“God put some dormant gene in the Winchester system for some reason or another. When Parmida, the witch,” he clarified in response to Bobby’s raised eyebrow, “um, when she did the spell or whatever, she called on Grace that ended up coming from Lucifer and Michael and it turned us into this and yeah. Been kind of busy trying out my new powers, haven’t exactly done my reading. So that’s all I know.”

But Dean had left out the most important part, and he felt sick for his mate’s supportive touch but undeserving because the omission felt like betrayal.

“And why’d your _deepest desire_ make this gene suddenly relevant for both o’ you?” A few moments of silence, and the frustration was back in the set of the older hunter’s jaw. “Damnit, boy, it’s like pulling teeth!”

Dean was distracted when the sound of wings taking flight filled the air, sending panic through his system; was Cas leaving? Had he already ruined it all? But when he turned his Alpha was still there, studying the prism of color reflecting through one of the motel’s long-time resident’s wind chimes.

“I must’ve touched Sam when she was doing it,” Dean muttered, then he took a step towards Castiel and interlaced their fingers. Cas finally looked up, face slightly drawn, and that was all it took. “Know how you mentioned Sam and Gabriel?”

“Yeah, still not too clear on what’s going on there. Not sure I wanna know.”

But he sounded more worried than disgusted; actually, he didn’t sound disgusted at all. And then the mechanic’s eyes fell to the angels’ joined hands.

“So that’s what this was all about? That why you had such a hard time spittin’ it out?” Not a single note of disgust; just exasperation wrapped in understanding. Dean felt the last of the tension melt from his body as he nodded.

“I have gathered some information if you’d like to look over it,” Castiel offered, grip tightening around Dean’s hand. The change in subject couldn’t have come soon enough.

“I still want to know what’s going on in there,” Dean grumbled, inclining a head towards Bobby as if to ask ‘are we okay’? The older man gave a grunt and smacked Dean over the head.

“Next time pick up a damn phone. Idjit.”

Then he was heading back in the room, shouting to the group to deal him back in. Castiel moved to follow but Dean hesitated, tugging on the elder angel’s arm.

“’m sorry ‘bout that,” Dean said quietly, overcome with the urge to crawl inside of Castiel and never come out. He’d almost denied his Alpha, and he could feel the threat of self-loathing creeping over him.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Dean,” Castiel responded firmly. “You value Bobby’s place in your life and this is a lot to take in. You didn’t ask for this –“

“But I want it, and I’m happy I got it, and I’m a coward and an idiot and, most importantly, sick to death of talking.” He leaned forward to press their foreheads together in what was quickly becoming a practiced move, an act of borrowing strength from the other angel.

“I dislike it when you talk about yourself like that,” Cas whispered, bringing up a hand to grip Dean’s left shoulder exactly where his mark used to be. Felt the Alpha in him rise, tone going dark. “I won’t have anyone speaking about my chosen mate that way. Understood?”

Dean shivered, rubbing his cheek against Castiel’s as he nodded (who knew scruff against scruff could be so electrifying?) before pulling himself away.

“Before we go in there, what did Balthazar say to you?”

Cas looked startled by the question, obviously just as affected by their closeness as Dean. The Celestial shook squinted his eyes in consternation; this sort of distraction would not do during hunts. But he shelved that thought for later and answered Dean’s question.

“He informed me that Gabriel and Sam would probably be surfacing for good early tomorrow morning and that Michael would be joining us soon. It would seem he already sent Raphael to Hell, though his purpose in doing so is not yet clear. As for Crowley, it would seem he’s been assigned the job of rounding up and returning every demon that escape through the Hell Gate.”

 Dean’s attempted to close his gaping mouth, but seriously; what?

“Is this for real?”

As always, Castiel had an answer for his rhetorical question.

“Let’s go find out.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s ‘Glencraig’ in case you aren’t familiar, what with that swill you love to ingest,” Crowley gloated, clinking his chips obnoxiously.

“You’re playin’ dirty,” Bobby accused.

“Always,” the demon leered, eyes flashing red in a showy display meant to ruffle the hunter. It didn’t work.

“All or nothin’,” the man demanded, determined to wipe the smug grin off of Crowley’s face.

They continued bickering as Lucifer absentmindedly shuffled and dealt another hand, looking impatient and bored.

Dean gave Castiel’s hand one last squeeze before he let go and headed towards the table, shaking his head when Lucifer casually offered to deal him in. This was so fucking bizarre.

“Let’s wait to start the interrogation until Michael gets here. I’m finding all of this redundant and mundane and I really hate repeating myself. But I will, one last time, since you asked so nicely. Yes, I’m bringing the demons back downstairs. I’m also shutting all but one of the Gates, ‘cause it’s my way in and out, but no one knows about it. Alright, what else... what else…”

“Why?” Dean couldn’t help but ask, because anything that sounded too good to be true probably was and hello, he was a freaking Winchester. No way was this, **any** of this, his luck.

“I’m really a simple being, Dean; I believe in the all or nothing way of life.” Dean leveled him with a cold, blank stare. Lucifer sported Nick’s body with none of the physical damage he had shown in Detroit (Dean would later learn that vessels who don’t survive the experience but aren’t totally destroyed go in to ‘storage’ where the bodies are patched up and put away for later use and seriously, Heaven sounded sicker than Hell sometimes) but the Omega could see his wings now; they looked singed, patches of skin showing that looked scabbed or completely scarred. The color may have once been a rich emerald, scattered feathers of regal gold, silver, and deep, hollow black, but there seemed to be a layer of ash nearly shellacked on to each and every feather, giving them a gray tinge. It was almost sad.

Dean shook out his own shining, well groomed feathers, and felt a fleeting stab of sympathy for the angel. Until, of course, the dickwad of ancient proportions opened his mouth and heaved a put upon sigh.

“There is no longer a way for Michael and I to fulfill what we had gone for centuries’ believing was our destiny. You and your brother delayed it, sure, but we could’ve gotten out eventually. We know some people who know some people. But now with our diminished Grace it would be pointless to try again. Everything has to be different, so why not start with damage control. I am not evil, Dean.”

“All that talk and you don’t say a thing worth listenin’ to. I think you just love the sound of your own voice,” Dean spat out.

The archangel smirked.

“Fine then, your turn; how ‘bout you tell me what you and my feisty little brother have been up to. His meatsuit is _very_ –“

“You’re planning something.”

It wasn’t a question. The new angel’s wings flared out in a threatening display as instinct told him he could hold his own against this foe. The enemy grinned with glee, not showing a hint of apprehension in the face of Dean’s challenge.

“Why do you say that?”

The lights started flashing, and the mirth in Lucifer’s eyes slipped away. The sounds of wings, though it was more akin to far off thunder, filled every corner of the room. A woman Dean had never seen before was standing, arms crossed, next to Lucifer.

“Lucifer, must you be difficult?”

“Michael, must you be so dramatic?”

“Nice vessel,” Dean cut in, glad to finally be able to get some answers. His wings quivered, not out of anxiety, but out of anticipation.

“It’s nice to see you again, Dean,” Michael said, voice soft but commanding. “Her name is Moira; a far distant cousin of yours that shares the Winchester blood. She was dying.”

“Uh, okay. That… really sucks. Where’s Adam?”

It wasn’t something Dean had allowed himself to think about, focusing instead on Sam’s miraculous return. He’d felt like a dick, and it was something he knew he had to fix, if he could.

“He is with Kate where he belongs. I’ve erased the experience from his mind.”

Dean felt Castiel walk up behind him and rest a hand on his shoulder, suddenly aware that the whole room had gone quiet.

“First decent thing you’ve done,” Dean muttered.

“No it isn’t. You’ve gotten the worst possible impression of me, but that can’t be changed. All that can be done is, as Lucifer so aptly put it, damage control.”

“Shouldn’t you two be pissed? I mean, c’mon, you expect me to believe you’re okay with being stuffed in the Cage and then powered down?”

“Maybe they needed the time out for a heart to heart,” Bobby added sarcastically.

Michael, new hazel eyes unfocused, seemed to be contemplating Bobby’s assertion. It was Lucifer who responded.

“It was no beach house in the tropics but we managed to work out a few of our difference –“

“Without decimating human life,” Dean mumbled.

“- and really, why would I be angry? I’m out of the Cage, I get to walk Earth and visit Heaven and know that Michael is just as eternally frustrated as I am. It all worked out well.” And then he said something in Enochian that made Balthazar and Crowley snicker and Castiel tighten his hold on Dean’s shoulder. The hunters shared a look that said they would rather not know.

“He also got the attention from our Father he has been seeking; I’m sure that’s helping the pill go down.”

“You spoke to Him?”

Castiel sounded wrecked; hope warred disbelief while anger simmered slowly in the background. Dean reached up a hand to rest on top of the one on his shoulder, not even batting an eye at their audience. No one else seemed to notice, either way.

“Yes, Castiel. He said it would be His last act of interference, though He did seem confident we would handle our realm of existence with more care. There have been new orders given, and I find myself with a new perspective. You .”

“No thanks.”

“Are there any actual questions? I would like to get to the ‘walking Earth’ portion of my freedom.”

“What are you even still doing here?”

“I compelled him to remain behind; we do owe you and your brother peace of mind.”

“Damn right you do. What’s going on with the Civil War up in Heaven your guy Raphael was inciting. Aren’t you just making Lucifer 2.0 by putting him on demon duty?”

 “Raphael is still in a position of power with authority over a large population of demons as well as a few of his more loyal followers to assist him. He isn’t quite shackled to Hell, but I thought it best to keep him distant from those he betrayed in my absence.”

Lucifer yawned loudly, fist thumping on the table to the beat of ‘Knocking on Heaven’s Door’. Dean wanted to stick an angel blade through his hand.

“What does mean for the fighting and devastation in Heaven?” The hope seemed to outweighing everything in Castiel’s voice now, bringing Dean back to the moment.

“It has ceased and we’ve set about with healing.” Dean rolled his eyes at how _maternal_ it sounded in Michael’s newly adopted voice. “Those who were following Raphael out of duty were forgiven, and those who sided with Castiel on the matters of choice and free will are having their voices heard. Our duty has always the safekeeping of souls in Heaven, and the guidance of those on Earth. We have lost sight of that, but it is time to readjust our priorities. You have a choice, Castiel.”

“I wish to remain on Earth,” Castiel replied without hesitation.

“As I suspected; I’m sure Gabriel will say the same. Then that’s settled. Anything more?”

Dean opened and closed his mouth, looking from Bobby to Castiel for input. Neither of them seemed to have anything to add, the former still wary while the latter looked relieved. _He’s staying_ , Dean thought to himself, felt his heart damn near skip a beat as he fought a smile.

He tried to school his expression before giving Michael a terse, “Nope.”

Michael nodded, shoulder length black hair falling in to his eyes. Dean watched, bemused, as the archangel push his (her?) hair back in a move that seemed natural.

“Things may be a bit hectic on all ends,” she (Dean was confused) continued. “I hope we can stay out of each other’s hair. As far as I know, you have managed to collect all of the available information on the Winchester’s transitions, and I wish you all the best.”

“That mean we can go now?” Lucifer whined, ever the petulant child. Dean hated how much it reminded him of a young Sammy. The sooner these asshats left, the better the hunter would feel. His head felt like it was spinning with information, stomach twisting slightly to remind him he hadn’t eaten in a few hours.

“Back to everyone else’s regularly scheduled programs, meanwhile I’m over here stuck playing border mule to every demon that got out,” Crowley complained.

“Sounds exhausting; better git to it,” Bobby groused, coming to stand next to Dean as he rose from his chair. The younger hunter stood as well,

“And here I was thinking we were having such a good time, Singer. Don’t worry, I’ll be stopping in for my Craig soon, you won’t have time to miss me. Maybe next time we can up the ante.” A blink and the demon was gone.

Another rush of feathers sounded, before stronger ones joined, and Dean realized the archangels had left as well.

“Care if I look over that information you found, seein’ as how this one probably won’t be readin’ it any time soon?”

“Give the man his ancient text, Cas. ’m takin’ a nap,” Dean grunted, heading towards to bathroom to pee and splash some water in his face before going to drop, fully clothed, onto the mattress. Food could wait.

When he looked up he realized Bobby had gone.

“Bobby is in the room at the far end, next to the lobby. He said he would see you in the morning.”

The Omega nodded in response, head pounding slightly as he reviewed the conversation in his head. There had to be something; some sort of hidden agenda in all of Michael’s free love crap.

Dean felt an almost mental nudge after that thought, a calm reassurance that his worry was for naught.

“You in my head?” Dean’s eyes were closed but he could feel Cas looking at him; swore he could almost hear his angel smile that barely there stretch of lips he seemed to reserve for Dean and Dean alone.

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. I’m sorry if it’s making you uncomfortable.”

“Nah. ‘s nice,” his words were slurring as he drifted, pushing a hand across the mattress in the direction of Castiel’s voice.

The next moment he and his mate were under the covers, clad in boxers and nothing more, and Dean was breathing in Cas’ subtle but intoxicating scent.

“You’re stayin’,” Dean remembered, forcing his eyes open to look at Cas.

“Of course. I will visit Heaven, on occasion, to help where I can. But you are my home now, Dean Winchester.”

Dean couldn’t bring himself to do more than roll his head from the pillow to Cas’ chest, but the kiss he laid over his Alpha’s heart seemed to express enough; it elicited a sigh from the Celestial, who brought up a hand to card through his Omega’s hair.

Placing his ear over where he’d just pressed his lips, Dean allowed the steady beats to soothe his racing thoughts and guide him towards the blissful quiet of rest.


End file.
